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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27912991">118 Years Later</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/addicted_2_fandoms/pseuds/addicted_2_fandoms'>addicted_2_fandoms</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Who Are We Beyond That? A Very Mystrade Christmas [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Christmas, Fluff, Greg Lestrade is a Good Boyfriend, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft is a Softie, Poor Postal Service, References To ACD Sherlock Era, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:09:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27912991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/addicted_2_fandoms/pseuds/addicted_2_fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt - A Christmas card arrives in the mail fifty (118) years after it was delivered</p><p>Mycroft gets a letter meant for Mycroft Holmes dated 1892, it's 2010 and he has no idea who Gregory Lestrade is?</p><p>(Basically just a really short meet-cute for our two favourite side characters, based on a Christmas prompt list)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Who Are We Beyond That? A Very Mystrade Christmas [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045605</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Mystrade Holiday 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>118 Years Later</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Haha, idk what possessed me to write this, but it's really cute and short and getting me back into writing so please leave a comment and/or kudo and thanks!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>23rd December, 1892</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My dearest, Sir</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We have not corresponded in such a long time and I have dearly missed your letters. I am unsure as to what occurred after my departure and I am terribly sorry for any inconvenience or quarrels it may have caused. Therefore I have decided, it being the season of giving that I write you this letter. The merriest of Christmas I wish to you Sir. I understand if you do not wish to correspond any longer, please write back if you wish to. If not, I shall not harass you any longer. I will remember you fondly My dearest Mycroft.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forever yours,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gregory Lestrade</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The envelope was made of a good quality paper, the address of the Holmes residence written on the front in a flourish not seen outside of calligraphy classes. The edge of the envelope was frayed and Mycroft’s name was written very delicately on the front, well someone’s name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The christmas letter was confusing to say the least. Who were these Mycroft and Gregory, and why was Gregory so sorry? Mycroft had so many questions, standing there in the snow. He pulled his dressing gown closer to his body holding the open letter in front of him, absentmindedly brushing snow from it. He wondered what the postal service of this country had come to, the letter was over 100 years late and the date sat there staring him down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘23rd December, 1892’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So on the 23rd of December, 2010, exactly 118 years later Mycroft Holmes received a letter written for his namesake, a letter that never arrived. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sudden breeze came through and the sound of a car in his driveway snapped Mycroft out of his trance, had he really been that distracted? A balding man got out of a cop car, looking concerned and striding over to Mycroft, hat in hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am so sorry to bother you so early in the morning Mr Holmes, especially near Christmas, but Sherlock asked me if I would tell his ‘bothersome brother’, his own words, he assured me were necessary, to come over for a Christmas dinner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mycroft scoffed at his little brother’s antics, raising a brow. “And why is it that he couldn’t come himself?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, he’s working on a case and I was just pleased he wanted family over.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was then Mycroft noticed how much he was shivering, not having much in the way of warmth, only a thin jacket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh please do come inside…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Greg. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. Pleased to meet.” He held out his hand to Mycroft who had seemed to freeze again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah yes, Gregory, do you mind?” He held out his hand, shaking Greg’s before leading them inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took Greg’s coat and hung it next to the fireplace, pouring them a cup of tea from the pot. They sat in front of the fireplace, chatting about what recent shenanigans Sherlock had gotten up to, letter seemingly forgotten in Mycroft’s pocket. That was until he stood up to stoke the fire and it fell out again, bringing it back to the forefront of his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Gregory, what did you say your full name was again?” He hoped the question hadn’t come off as creepy, but there was honestly no other way he could have taken it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um… Lestrade, Gregory Lestrade.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yes. About that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled the letter out of his pocket, handing it to Greg with a silent gesture. He spent a moment contemplating the envelope before opening it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hang on, Gregory Lestrade? But?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My thoughts precisely. It seems we were not the only Mycroft Holmes and Gregory Lestrade to have tea in this room, nor has the postal service advanced in 118 years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Greg looked over the date again. “Exactly 118 years, huh? I guess it must be fate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The universe is rarely so lazy, so you must be right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The awkwardness in the room started to fade again, like the letter had never been taken out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wonder who they were.” Greg asks finally, after a few moments of silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mycroft stared at him confused. “What do you mean? They were our ancestors, of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Greg giggled at that, actually giggled. “Of course they were our ancestors, but who </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> they? What did they do for a living? Was Gregory a Detective Inspector like me or did Mycroft have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> sweet tooth? Were we- um, they friends or more, by the looks of this?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened, did they fight? What about? Beyond being our namesakes, who were they? What did they like to do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mycroft sat, deliberating the question for a few beats too long, Greg getting nervous he’d said something wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I overstepped-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not at all, I was simply admiring your curiosity and intelligence. I suppose you’re quite right and I suppose we’ll never really know who they were, although I can do some digging. But we’ll never know who they were as people, whether we should be proud of them as namesakes or whether they’d be proud of us, nor who they were to each other.” His voice lowered at the last part.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can find out who </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> are to each other. If that’s alright with you.” Greg snapped out of the trance, rushing out the last line, afraid of overstepping, again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sounds wonderful Gregory.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shall we spend Christmas together before going to Watson-Holmes residence?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll pick you up at 10 sharp.” Mycroft begins with a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t ask me for the address, I’m sure you already have it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mycroft looked sheepish until he noticed Greg’s smile and laughed along. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I’m sure you’re quite right. Christmas at 10.” Mycroft smiled widely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m looking forward to it.” Greg smiled back just as wide. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me walk you to your car. Don’t argue, I insist.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” How could this man reduce Greg into a blushing schoolgirl with one sentence? Christmas would be interesting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Exactly 1 year later… </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Greg went to his mailbox, braving the cold winter storms to do so, something in his gut telling him to check it today. Among the usual brochures and bills there was a good quality envelope with his name written on the front in a flourish not seen outside of calligraphy classes. The edge of the envelope was frayed and Gregory’s name was written very delicately on the front. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>23rd December, 2011</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My dearest, Gregory</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have heard it was tradition to send letters to those you love on Christmas, especially in the 1800s, so I thought to give it a try. I do wish we spent more time together, as our time spent together is never a waste and you truly are the one person I can stand. I was hoping you’d let me pick you up at 10 sharp on Christmas before heading over to Mr and Mr Watson-Holmes’ house. I have enclosed my house key in here as a way of saying I want you to stay with. I love you my dearest Gregory Lestrade.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forever yours,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mycroft Holmes</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The letter left him crying and sputtering, like it must have Mycroft exactly one year ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hoped this one wouldn’t get lost in the post.” Mycroft called out from a car in the street, startling Greg.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m having some serious deja vu here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, good or bad?” Mycroft hummed, sweeping Greg into his arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very good my beloved.” Greg murmured into Mycroft’s mouth, shutting the man up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well in that case dear, Gregory, how about we go inside and speculate once again what Mycroft and Gregory might have done all those years ago.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can show you, you cheeky prat.” He kissed Mycroft on the cheek before dragging him inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thank god for the terrible postage service, exactly 119 years later.</span>
</p>
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